Cave Canem
by Mizu Iruka
Summary: Sam had always wanted a guide dog. Unseen 'verse.


**Cave Canem**

_Next installation in the Unseen 'verse, where Sam was blinded when he was young. Set sometime in Season 1. _

* * *

The click-clacking noise had Sam tilting his head in consideration. Not the thumping of boots he had expected. Dean should be back at the motel at any minute.

The panting sound made everything clearer. "Hey there," he said softly. He extended his fist slightly as the sound drew close. "Come on. I won't hurt you."

A wet tongue made Sam jump and he laughed. "Aren't you a bold thing." His extended fingers found bristly fur, and he scratched. "Better get lost before Dean gets back. He hates dogs," Sam advised, but didn't desist his petting. He had been asking Dean for years to get a guide dog. Dean had always laughed him off, and Sam had never been really serious. But still. He loved dogs. Jess's parents had had a golden retriever.

The dog barked, and Sam jerked.

"Kay boy . . . or girl. Look go on. You feel well-groomed, better get back to your owner," Sam prompted, making a shooing gesture.

The dog just barked again.

Sam scowled. "Seriously. Go on. Dean's gonna be back soon."

A growl had Sam flinching back, hand curling around his cane. "I'm warning you, mutt, don't even think about it."

A strange whining sound. Sam was lost. "What is up with you?" he muttered

The dog barked, a series of short, staccato notes. It seemed oddly . . . patterned. Sam thought out the rhythm in his head and froze. "No," he breathed. "That's not even possible. How . . . Dean?"

The dog barked out yes in morse code, and Sam sank back against the wall, flabbergasted.

"Dean. You're a dog. How . . ." If Dean had been able to speak, Sam was sure he would've smirked and told Sam now would be a good time to use a curse word. "I can't even . . . only you, dude."

Sam reached out again and felt a paw land in his hand heavily.

"Right. Uh, the case. Guys gone missing. We thought they were just missing, but like you, probably also turned into dogs or other animals. You were interviewing one of the families, did you find anything? Bark once for yes, twice for no."

Two barks. Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"Animal transformation," he said aloud. "Witch, most likely, right?" A wet tongue ran over his fingertips. "We should . . . we should get back to the motel."

Dean barked once. Numbly, Sam shifted his pack and extended his cane. He thought he remembered the path they took from the motel. It was a small town, and the interview hadn't been far. Good thing they hadn't taken the car.

"Dude, no animals! Look at the sign."

Sam turned to the voice of the desk attendant, not bothering to hide the exasperation on his face or his eyes.

"Oh. I . . . sorry. I didn't mean . . . is that your seeing-eye dog?"

He just barely managed to hide his smirk and nodded seriously. "I lost his halter. You don't think you could get me one, could you?"

"There's a pet shop not far away," the person said.

Sam fumbled, pulling out his wallet and handing over two twenties with a regretful twinge. He just wouldn't have dinner. "Whatever they have. Thanks."

Dean made a weird huffing noise and Sam grinned. "C'mon doggie, let's go to the room," he teased, getting a growl in return.

As amusing as the situation was, it was very much not funny in other ways. Animal transformations meant a powerful witch, enough that Dean wouldn't turn back after a couple days or something.

A knocking at the motel door wrenched Sam out of his thoughts.

"Hey, I got your harness."

"Thanks." Sam smiled vaguely. "Hey listen, I heard a rumor that there were a lot of strays around. Is that true?"

The attendant laughed uncomfortably. "Uh yeah. Always having to chase 'em off."

"Where is it the worst?" Sam asked closely. "Just, so, y'know, I don't go near them. Don't want them to mess with my dog."

Dean growled at that.

"They like the downtown area. Near that Chinese restaurant. Probably pick up scraps that way."

"Great, thanks." Sam smiled in the voice's direction and then let it slip when the door closed.

"There's a lead," he said, oddly disquieted by the lack of Dean's voice. "So should we go now?"

Dean barked twice.

Sam frowned. "Why not?"

He only got a growl.

"I have no idea what that means, dude. Or, dog."

Teeth mouthed at his hand and Sam let out a shaky laugh. "Alright, we'll wait until tomorrow." He sank down on the bed. "Only you would get yourself turned into a dog."

Dean made a strange huffing noise and curled up on top of Sam's foot.

"Dude, we have beds. Just 'cuz you're a dog doesn't mean you have to sleep like one."

Dean gave a rumbling sigh, but didn't move. "Right," Sam muttered. "Whatever."

* * *

Strangely, Dean didn't mind being a dog.

Well, it wasn't ideal. But no clothes, running around and having keen senses that made up for the color-blindness . . . it was kinda fun.

That and he got to pee on the guy from the bar who had laughed at Sam last night. So, y'know. Looking at the pros, here.

But heading into a hunt without being able to hold a gun? Not cool.

Sam tugged a little on his halter, and Dean grumbled, the sound coming out as a bit of a growl.

"Sorry, man." Sam nearly let go of the halter until Dean pressed his head against Sam's shin. This was karma for Dean, never letting Sam get a guide dog.

"I think we're almost there, I smell chinese," Sam muttered. "See anything?"

Dean barked quietly twice.

"Probably around back," Sam said aloud. "We'll just-"

Sam was about to step in a pothole, and Dean jerked backwards, prompting Sam to still. "Dean?"

Dean hated being patient, but he was learning new lessons as Sam felt out the hole with his foot.

"Nice, dude. Sure we don't want to keep you like this?"

Dean gnawed on Sam's hand to let him know he was being annoying, tasting sweat and for some reason not finding that gross. It was weird being a dog.

He smelled blood and tugged on the halter. Sam followed his lead, just like when he was human.

Sam felt out the door and was about to open it. Dean growled.

"Dean?" he murmured.

Dean nosed at Sam's pocket that had his gun.

"Right."

They burst in, per usual team WInchester, minus Dean having a gun and two legs.

"Who are you?"

Dean realized with shock that he recognized the woman . . . she had nearly side-swiped the Impala earlier, and he had yelled at her. Thus her motivation for turning him into a dog.

"You turned my brother into a dog. Change him back." Sam's voice was strong and just a shade of dangerous, which Dean really appreciated. He did his best to look threatening as well, raising his hackles and growling low in his throat.

"He deserved it."

Sam pretty much had his hackles raised as well. "Why? Cuz you have some chip on your shoulder for guys like him?"

"Called me a very nasty name. Y'know, that nasty name for a female dog. Thought it was appropriate."

Dean remembered and glanced penitently at his brother before re-focusing on the scenario.

"Dean may be a misogynistic jerk at times, but that's no reason to turn him into a dog," Sam reasoned. Dean was pleased to see that he had yet to lower the gun, despite his attempt to reason with the . . . Dean replaced the epithet in his head, just in case she had witchy powers that could read dog's minds.

"You have no leverage, you know. Maybe you can play the blind guy pity card, but hey, you have a guide dog now, right?"

Sam pulled the hammer on his revolver back. Revolvers had always been his favorite guns, just for that intimidating factor, Dean knew.

"I may not have eyesight, but you can know that I'm a pretty good shot nonetheless," he said flatly. "Change my brother back."

The witch smirked and Dean growled.

The words that came out of her mouth were the last Dean wanted to hear. "Sic 'em, boys."

A sharp bark from behind them had Sam whirling, too late, to a huge mastiff jumping on him. Dean snarled, leaping forward himself, only to be shoved aside by a smaller dog slamming into him as well.

Sam yelled, and Dean ripped out the throat of the dog on top of him—it was a person, but it was stopping him from helping Sammy—and turned to the witch.

"Stay," she commanded. Dean shuddered, unable to look away from her narrowed eyes.

At Sam's cry, Dean was able to wrench himself away, attacking the mastiff without a second thought.

A shot rang out, and Dean was . . . well, human. So was the mastiff he had been fighting, and they were both naked.

Dean shoved away from him, ignoring the man's blabbering and focused on his brother.

"Sammy?" he tried.

Sam's face, slightly bloody from some clawing on his cheek, turned to him and sagged in relief. "Dean? It worked?"

"Yeah, dude. I need some clothes."

Sam laughed shakily, shrugging off his jacket with difficulty and giving it to Dean.

"Whoa there," Dean knelt and gently took Sam's arm. "Looks like you're gonna be getting some rabies shots."

Sam grimaced. "Right. We should get back to the motel."

"Um, yeah. Good thing it's dark out," he said, wrapping Sam's jacket around his waist. The other victims were looking befuddled and lost, but Dean didn't have time for them. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

"What was it like?"

There was a second's silence, and Sam wondered if Dean had snuck out for ice or something.

"Uh, I dunno. Weird. I have the strange urge to walk on all fours, at the moment."

Sam snickered, feeling out his bed and flopping down on it. "And a hankering for red meat?"

"Dude, I always like red meat."

"True."

Dean's footsteps approached the bed. "How's your arm?"

Sam shrugged. "That numbing ointment helps."

"So."

Sam waited.

"Do you want a seeing-eye dog?"

"I would say that came out of nowhere, but I guess it didn't," Sam said thoughtfully. "What happened to all of your old arguments? Time it would take to train the dog, money to feed it, hair in the Impala . . ."

He could practically hear Dean's wince in his voice. "If it'd help you hunt . . ." he managed.

Sam took mercy on him and grinned, tilting his head in the direction of his brother so that Dean could see it. "That's sweet of you, Dean, but what do I need a dog for? I've got you."

"Oh, you little bitch."

"Watch your mouth, it'll get you turned into a wittle puppy," Sam sang.

Dean pounced on him, digging his fingers into Sam's ribs. Sam had thought he wasn't ticklish anymore—apparently that wasn't true. Squirming and laughing helplessly, he tried to throw Dean without poking his eye out and failed.

"Uncle!" he gasped out.

"Yeah, that's right." Dean settled next to him, and Sam reached out, palming Dean's neck.

"Your wounds okay?"

Dean shrugged off his hand. "Man, I had fur and everything. It's just scratches."

Sam suddenly laughed. "We're heading North tomorrow, aren't we? You shoulda stayed a dog for that."

"You're the one who hates the cold, remember?" Dean nudged him with an elbow, and Sam precipitously guarded his ribs, just in case Dean was about to go for round two.

"You're sure you don't want a dog?" Dean said after a moment.

"I'm good." Sam settled back. "Read something aloud?"

"Sure."

"Do I need to let you out to go to the bathroom first?" Sam grinned, and got a slap in the head for his trouble.

"You want me to read this or not?"

Sam smiled. "I'm done. For now."

* * *

**A/N:** This was the most fun installment I've gotten to write yet. Dean as a dog? It was begging to be written.

Get it, _begging_ . . . okay I'm done.

Unfortunately, all of my other fic ideas are sluggish at best I've been burned out because of the amount of essays I've had to write. Takes the muse right away. Bleh.

I would love suggestions for this 'verse, if anyone has 'em. I know I can go through and re-write the episodes, but that requires me to re-watch the episodes, which is time I don't really have at the moment. So any off-the-cuff ideas for moments between episodes or pre-series would be fantastic.


End file.
